


all my aching bones are trembling and I may yet fall apart

by thatsparrow



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Campaign 2 (Critical Role), Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Past Astrid/Caleb Widogast, Spoilers: Episode 128
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:56:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29957169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsparrow/pseuds/thatsparrow
Summary: Astrid and Eadwulf are together when the message comes through, Trent's voice a sudden presence among her own thoughts in a manner that used to startle Astrid when she was younger and only sends a ripple of annoyance through her now.Bren came to Vergessen today. I'd like a word with him, but you remember his stubbornness. He's bound for Nicodranas — meet me there.[spoilers: episode 128]
Relationships: Astrid & Eodwulf (Critical Role)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 49





	all my aching bones are trembling and I may yet fall apart

**Author's Note:**

> title from "curses" by the crane wives

She and Eadwulf are together when the message comes through, Trent's voice a sudden presence among her own thoughts in a manner that used to startle Astrid when she was younger and only sends a ripple of annoyance through her now. Eadwulf glances over to her, a shift in his expression that confirms he hears it, too.

_Bren came to Vergessen today. I'd like a word with him, but you remember his stubbornness. He's bound for Nicodranas — meet me there._

When the message is done, Astrid lets out a short, sharp exhale through her nose. _Bren, he was never meant to know_. To Eadwulf, she shakes her head slightly, adopts a look that's equal parts reproving and surprised. "Vergessen? Bren should've known that would only end in folly."

"If Bren truly knew what was best for him, he'd have kept his head tucked low enough to avoid catching Trent's attention. But you know him—the noble ideas, the sense of purpose, thoughts already racing to the next page before he's finished reading the one in front of him. And that was before these new friends of his, the 'Mighty Nein'." Eadwulf snorts. "Not an ounce of sense or self preservation among them."

Astrid nods, remembering not for the first time the dinner hosted at Trent's. Those six outsiders at the table around Bren—Caleb, to them—needling Trent as if there was no need for fear, as if any of their cheap barbs were worth the risk. But Bren had sat steady among them, even knowing all that he did of Trent, all that he had experienced firsthand and the scars he wore still, and Astrid recalls back farther, to his boyhood days when he had drawn such strength from her and Eadwulf instead. Seeing Bren then—seeing him watching her with more wariness than trust—a part of Astrid longed for a younger, simpler time when she'd been the one to offer him that measure of support, when he and Eadwulf had lent that same strength to her.

But Astrid is no longer young, was never one for simple things, and so the greater sum of her understands that such ties are as much a liability as anything else. Far better to rely only on herself—to need no others, and so to have no others whose pain might bring her to her knees. Undoubtedly his companions had joined Bren at Vergessen, and so what if Trent proved unable to apprehend Bren himself? What if the depths of Bren's stubbornness vexed Trent enough to demand steeper measures? Surely Bren knows that Trent would settle for any of the Nein in his stead, would coax pain from them with his placid smile until their cries brought Bren to his door or pulled the answers from his throat. Surely—just as sure that Bren carries the burden of their safety on his shoulders with the rest of his regrets. It exhausts Astrid just to imagine it. She's often wondered if Trent tasking them to kill their parents wasn't meant to serve as a precaution as much as a test—to have each burgeoning Volstrucker eliminate any points of potential leverage over them, to sever any anchors that might compromise their focus from Trent's precious goals.

 _The Mighty Nein_. A foolish name for foolish individuals, and yet—even after these many years, even now that the time they'd spent apart nearly eclipsed the time they'd had together, a part of Astrid does still hope for Bren's happiness (has an easier time imagining it for him than for herself, at least, untethered as he is from Trent and the Volstrucker) and it's clear that the presence of the Nein, that his inclusion in this new family, does offer him that. His time in Vergessen had withered him, but the man who'd sat at Trent's table—the man who'd turned her around the dance floor with his hand steady at her waist—holds himself with assurance, a sense of strength beyond his arcane abilities, and Astrid does extend a measure of gratitude to the Nein for fostering that.

If only they don't get him killed, too.

—

It's rare that Trent's pursuits take him or the Volstrucker to Nicodranas, content as it and the other coastal cities are to remain in their watery corner of Wildemount, preoccupied with pirate raids and trade disputes and other concerns too petty for Trent's interests. But his contacts and his reach extend throughout the continent, and here he has partnered with a merchant in the Opal Archways, bargaining information and occasional favors for the construction and use of a teleportation circle in the man's basement, known only to himself and the Volstrucker. It's here that Astrid and Eadwulf send themselves after receiving Trent's message, stepping through in tandem as their chalked circle in Rexxentrum gives way to the matching pattern inscribed in the stonework, the chill of Eadwulf's home replaced by a slight stuffiness, stale air that tastes faintly of salt. Trent is waiting for them upstairs, seated at the head of the merchant's dining table with another Volstrucker—Anya—at his left. 

"Astrid, Eadwulf," Trent says as they enter the room. Anya inclines her head slightly, pale eyes sharp as always under the dark line of her bangs. "Thank you for joining us."

Eadwulf nods before taking a seat, and Astrid follows suit. She hadn't expected to see Anya, established and accomplished enough among the Volstrucker that even Trent extends her some measure of respect. Her presence in Nicodranas is as intriguing as it is inauspicious for Bren.

"You said this was about Vergessen," Eadwulf says, leaning back into the chair. "What happened?"

"I am not entirely certain, but very eager to find out." Trent is known for his composure—the bladed line of that ever-present smile that speaks to some private joke—but now Astrid sees something restless flicker in his eyes, frustrated and satisfied at once. _Are you proud of what your former student has accomplished_ , she wonders. _That you were proven so correct in your assessment of him? Or, for all your assurances, does it irk you to see the works he has achieved without your tutelage? That he has managed such power without your methods or shortcuts?_ Absent, her thumb traces one of the lines of raised scar tissue below her sleeve. _That he never needed you. Perhaps neither did we_. Across the table, Trent continues. "I was alerted to a disturbance beneath the tower where a number of my components are stored. Imagine my surprise to discover Bren and two of his companions at the source, carrying a box clearly pilfered from within."

"You came across them?" Eadwulf asks, giving voice to Astrid's own surprise. "And they escaped?"

The corner of Trent's smile twitches. "A fortunate stroke, for Bren's magic to successfully counter my own. I don't intend to let that luck hold."

 _Lucky indeed_. Astrid is practiced at keeping her expression exactingly neutral—has learned from the best, after all—but even so, a flicker of nervousness coils in her stomach. Does Trent suspect her involvement? She trusts Bren to have kept her name out of his mouth in front of Trent, but hardly extends that same expectation to his allies. But Trent seems to pay her no more mind than Eadwulf or Anya, and so for the moment, Astrid breathes easy.

"One of the women with Bren spoke to a guard," Trent says. "She made mention of knowing the Ruby of the Sea; I understand her place of employment doubles as her residence, located not far from here. Astrid, Eadwulf—I'd like the two of you to look there for Bren. If that is indeed where he and his allies have fled, relay my interest in having a conversation." The smile twitches again as something works in Trent's jaw. "My own efforts in extending an invitation have proved unsuccessful, and I believe he owes me some measure of accountability for how his actions have—complicated matters. If he is unwilling to oblige, I trust the two of you to persuade him. In the event that he has traveled elsewhere, I'm sure a conversation with the Ruby will suffice in the interim."

She and Eadwulf nod, and Trent calls over the merchant to provide directions to the Lavish Chateau. As Astrid listens, as she and Eadwulf begin making their way down the street in their Marquesian illusions, worry for Bren settles high in her throat. _You see now the danger of friends? They will only ever be a weakness for Trent to exploit—either as a means of tracking you, or of luring you to him_. For her own part, Astrid has no sense of which outcome is preferable here—whether finding Bren and his allies, perhaps ensuring enough chaos for them to escape and extend the chase, or for the trail to have gone cold, for Bren's location to remain an enigma while this woman, the Ruby of the Sea, is left to face Trent alone.

And if the former, how to handle the presence of Eadwulf? True, he has no love for Trent, but he has also grown far beyond whatever boyhood loyalty lived between him and Bren. If the Nein are indeed at the Chateau, if Astrid chooses not to act—or to intervene on their behalf—Eadwulf could prove difficult. It's been a long time, too, since Astrid trusted him with her most dangerous secrets, but there is still a sense of kinship between them, unique to those in their line of work, stronger still in having been brought into the fold together, and so even if she isn't willing to trust him with the full account, perhaps she can afford an element of truth.

It's not far to the Chateau, but once they've left eyesight of the merchant's home—and no sign of Anya shadowing their trail—Astrid clears her throat, slows her steps. Eadwulf glances over at her, curious.

"What do you think of all this?" she asks, trying to read his expression in her peripheral. "Bren, Vergessen, Trent's preoccupation with the matter—all of it."

Eadwulf pauses for a moment, then catches her by the elbow and ducks the two of them into an alley off the main street. She gives a look of feigned surprise, but Eadwulf just raises an eyebrow, his meaning clear even with the familiarity of his features hidden under mask of his illusion. "Whatever you need to say, tell me now. You'd have waited until the Chateau if this was safe for prying ears."

Cutting to the quick of it where Astrid would prefer to tease out the nature of her intentions, cautious enough to test the ground beneath each of her steps. Unsurprising Eadwulf won't allow her that. "I think that we should aid Bren. Or, at least, aid by not interfering."

"You don't intend to bring him back to Trent?" Eadwulf frowns a little, crossing his forearms over his chest. "You're making moves, aren't you. If you want my help, I need more."

The point of no return, always seeming to arrive faster than Astrid would like. How much can she risk telling Eadwulf to buy his cooperation without selling too much for him to use against her later? She'd be more worried if his ambition rivaled her own, but he's pragmatism to the core—then again, there's enough gamble involved here that he might see holding loyal to Trent as the more practical option. Astrid can see his patience wearing thin, lets out a sharp exhale of her own as she rolls the dice on something she'd have preferred not to wager. "Bren met with me yesterday, asking for my help in obtaining additional amulets of protection. I'm the one who sent him to Vergessen, gave him the plans to the tower and guides to Trent's wards." Her mouth twists, wry. "Believe me, I never anticipated he'd make such a mess of things. I thought he knew enough of Trent to keep himself and the others from acting so foolish, certainly never expected they'd come face-to-face with Trent himself."

Eadwulf considers her, then snorts again. "Then you're as foolish as he." He shakes his head, unfolds his arms, gives her a searching, sideways look. "That's the game, then? You're betting on him against Trent?"

Astrid tries to read the thoughts behind his eyes; shame they had the same teacher in such matters. "More that I'm not counting Bren out. It seems for the moment he's tangled in something more complicated—dangerous enough to warrant such a risk-laden errand to Vergessen for the amulets—but even so, Trent is not as young as he once was, and Bren continues to grow stronger." She allows herself to feel a hint of amusement. "Strong enough to have countered Trent's magic with his own and come out the victor. How many can say that?"

"Not so strong that he and his allies didn't bolt at the first sign of him, though," Eadwulf says, half under his breath. He gives Astrid a steady look. "If Trent learns of what you've done—"

"I know—which is why I'm trusting you not to tell him."

"Making me an accomplice."

"As if you'd mourn his death. Are you truly so enamored of his boot on your neck?"

Eadwulf frowns, working his jaw a little. Astrid doesn't let go of his stare. After a moment, he relents. "I'm not helping Bren outright—I don't care enough about saving his skin to jeopardize my own—but, fine, if we come across them, I'll stand by. My hands are filthy enough without doing any more of Trent's dirty work."

She nods, hopes Eadwulf doesn't notice the tension bleeding out of her wound-tight muscles; if he knew the true depth of her nerves, he might reconsider this course. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me, not yet. I'm only saying yes because the risk seems manageable for the time being. That changes, though, and I'll be looking after my own interests first."

"Understood." And she does, truly. Tacit cooperation is already more than she'd hoped for—even if it's still less than she wants. With another nod of his head, the two of them make their way out of the alley, resuming their journey to the Chateau.

—

They don't have long to wait before Bren and the others arrive, making their way upstairs with comfortable familiarity. They seem nervous, but not nearly nervous enough—not when Trent is barely a stone's throw down the road. As they ascend the steps, some of them give cursory looks around the room—the firbolg's eyes lingering on hers for a moment longer than the rest—and then they're gone, disappearing into the rooms of the upper landings.

"Idiots," Eadwulf says under his breath, hands tight around his tankard. "To speak openly of this place in Vergessen and then make their way here."

Astrid is inclined to agree. _Foolish, Bren_. "Perhaps this is only a temporary stop, to collect the Ruby and go."

"Then they should be moving with more urgency." He takes a slow sip, eyeing Astrid over the rim of the mug. "And now? We've found them, as Trent has asked, and I've let them walk by undistubred, as you had asked. What do you anticipate for our next move, and how long do we wait before it occurs? Trent will be expecting us with them or the Ruby, and somehow I don't think that either of those outcomes are part of your agenda."

There's a vexed note in Eadwulf's voice that grates at her a little. As if she doesn't also understand the risks, as if she needs him playing the pessimist. "We'll stay for the moment, either until they leave, or long enough to warn them of Trent's presence and the need for haste."

"That hardly sounds like standing by."

"Breathe easy, I'll speak to them," Astrid says, working to keep her annoyance behind her teeth. "Leave you your deniability. Once they've gone, we'll return to Trent, relay that we've just missed Bren and the others but confirm they are in the city. Afford them a headstart without outright lying to him."

Eadwulf considers her. "I've never known you not to have the next eight steps planned to the letter. Certainly never to improvise."

"I didn't expect for Trent to find them at Vergessen. That—wrinkle has led to more uncertainty than I'd prefer."

"And yet still you gamble on Bren," Eadwulf says. "You don't see more uncertainty down that avenue than Trent's?"

"Bren's is a gamble I'm more inclined to make." Astrid takes a sip of her own drink. "If you've such doubt in the venture, then go. Tell Trent, save your own skin." She waits, watching Eadwulf, but he makes no effort to rise. No—because for all his barbs, he's sitting here because he's made the same calculation as her. Sees enough potential in Bren and his haphazard collection of allies—even for their occasional foolishness—to believe the better outcome lies with them. "If you were going to side with Trent, you'd have done so as soon as I told you of my role in the theft. So please, Eadwulf, enough if you've nothing useful to say. You're the only one at this table in love with the sound of your voice."

The corner of his mouth pulls back a little, but Eadwulf stays quiet, takes another pull from his drink instead. Of course he'd been needling her just for the annoyance, passing the time by imitating the whine of a mosquito in her ear—little different than the Eadwulf he'd been as a teenager. Astrid would like to think she's matured more than that, but from what she knows of Eadwulf—the recklessness that Bren has shown recent days—she's not so sure.

It's not much longer before Bren's companions return, including two of them through the front door, confronting Astrid and Eadwulf even through their illusions, and Astrid will credit them for that insight. Still, the look on their faces when she tells them of Trent's presence in the city suggests they'd no idea the danger was so imminent, that their plan of escape hadn't extended much farther than the doors of the Chateau. But there is little more that she or Eadwulf can do for them in the moment—can, or will, in Eadwulf's case—and so with the message delivered, the fire rekindled under their feet, she and Eadwulf take their leave.

"Remind me what we're telling Trent?" Eadwulf asks while they're still a few blocks out from the merchant's home. "That we'd just missed their arrival at the Chateau? If that's the case, Trent will want to know what delayed our return. Why would we not have reported that news with more urgency?"

"Perhaps we lingered, investigated the Ruby's quarter to determine where they might have gone. We can't scry on Bren himself, now, nor his allies. Not with their newly acquired amulets."

"We didn't scry on the Ruby?"

"We tried—she resisted. Bren's luck holds."

"And ours seems definitively to have turned," Eadwulf says. "That's quite a number of coincidences hinged together. Do you truly think Trent will believe it?"

 _Not entirely_. "He taught us to lie as well as anything else, including to him. I think he will be too focused on Bren's continued presence in the city and the opportunity it presents to pay much attention to the particulars."

"If Bren does escape, though—as clearly you intend him to—what then? Trent's ire will need a new focus eventually, and he's never suffered well the failures of others."

"You could sense his frustration at the table as well as I," Astrid says. "He only has so much time to apprehend Bren and procure his answers before the Assembly demands accountability of their own. If Bren can stay out of hand long enough, Trent will have new headaches to contend with, the tangled politics of the Assembly to occupy his attention."

"You understand how precarious this dance is, yes?" Eadwulf asks, and Astrid can see him glancing at her in her periphery. Wonders what he reads when he looks at her. "Either he'll send one of us after Bren, at which point only so many failures and misfortunes can be explained away before he grows suspicious, or he'll send another Volstrucker with fewer compunctions and ambitions of their own. The music's barely started and you already seem to be tripping over your feet."

"Funny that you mention it," Astrid says as they make the turn towards the merchant's house, now letting their glamours fall away like windblown smoke. "As I've recently had occasion to practice my dancing. Follow my lead, Eadwulf; I know these steps better than you think."


End file.
